


Axiom

by gracefulbees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Childhood Friends, Growing Up, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 17:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefulbees/pseuds/gracefulbees
Summary: Dean smiled at him. Not his big "we're going on an adventure" smile, or his "I know something you don't but I'm not going to tell you what" one, but the one that always made him feel safe.





	Axiom

Even years after the fact, Castiel would appreciate that Dean didn't mention his tears. His chest was heaving with hiccupping sobs, his shirt sleeve soaked with the snot he kept trying to wipe away, and despite his best attempts, he was unable to suppress his pained whimpers every time whenever Dean ran a damp cloth over his still bleeding arm. Every time, he flinched and tried to pull his arm back. Dean kept a firm grip and continued to gently clean him up.

Dean smiled at him. Not his big "we're going on an adventure" smile or his "I know something you don't know, but I'm not going to tell you what" one, but the one he'd use whenever Castiel was sad or when Sam was scared. That smile always made him feel safe.

"You're okay, Cas. I've just gotta put a band aid on it and you'll be fine." Dean paused, looking over his shoulder as a car passed on the street behind him. In hindsight, they probably should have tried to take care of this inside, not on the front porch. At the time, though, the thought had never crossed their minds. "What were you doing up there anyway? I thought you were scared of heights." His chubby fingers struggled to open the box of bandages.

"There was a bird sitting at the top of the tree. I wanted to pet it, but it flew away and scared me."

"So bad that you fell?"

Castiel glared at the tree across the street, sniffling his confirmation.

"Maybe after we're done patchin' you up, we could go swimming. You can float in water, and I bet that feels a whole lot like flying, but you don't have to worry about falling."

Without pause, Dean gathered up his things and trekked into the house. Holding his arm to his chest, Castiel jumped up to trail behind.

He squinted into the sudden darkness of the front room while he waited for his eyes to adjust. He couldn't figure out what swimming had to do with petting a bird. Maybe it would help teach  him why it flew away? That didn't make much sense to Cas, but Dean was _10_ and he knew a lot about a whole bunch of things, so he guessed it was best not to question him too much.

Or maybe there were going swimming with ducks. That would be cool.

There was just one problem.

"I can't swim."

"That's okay," Dean grinned, "I do." His footsteps clattered into the kitchen before he returned empty handed and bellowed out a loud, "Mom!"

Castiel instinctively dropped his arms to his sides and hunched his shoulders around his ears. No one's ever this loud at his house. Mom and Dad say that loud noises scare baby Hannah, so they need to be quiet. But baby Hannah has slept through Anna's loud music more than once, so Castiel doesn't know if that's really true.

A beat of silence passed before Dean yelled out again."Mom! Can we take Cas and Sammy swimming? I have to teach Cas how to swim!"

Mary's light voice drifted in, "And why do you need to do that?" I quick glance down the hall revealed her walking out of the laundry room with a basket full of what looked like towels.

Castiel liked Mrs. Mary. She was nice, and pretty, and she'd let him and Hannah come over  for dinner when their parents were too busy fighting to cook.

Dean threw his hands in the air, gesturing in a way that had Castiel squinting all over again. "Because he can't, and what if there's a flood, mom? He needs to be able to swim to make it through a flood!"

"Hi, Cas." Mary smiled down the hall. "Honey, I'm not sure you've noticed, but we live in Kansas. It might be a better idea to teach him how to fly in case of a tornado."

And hey, that's actually a pretty good idea. He'd definitely be able to pet a bird if he could fly like one. Maybe he wouldn't even want to pet one anymore. Flying would be neat. Castiel thought he could be content with that.

"I can't fly, though!" Dean yelled, simultaneously flailing his arms as if he were trying to take off in the front hall and quashing Castiel's quiet suspicion that the Winchesters were actually super heroes. "I can't teach him things I can't do! Only how to swim, fix ouchies, and read."

Mary hummed thoughtfully, propping the laundry basket on her hip. "Good point. I propose an alternate solution to our problem."

Castiel watched Dean's face collapse into a serious expression before he crossed his arms across his chest. "Go on," he rumbled, forcing his voice deeper like a grown-up's. Castiel though it was silly, but it made him smile anyway.

"How about you and Cas join Sammy in the living room? You can read with them while I finish up the laundry, and tomorrow you and Dad can teach them how to swim. As long as Cas' parents say it's alright, of course."

"Promise?"

"Always."

With a brilliant smile, Dean turned to Castiel and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the other room. "C'mon, Cas! I just got a new chapter book, and it's got pictures too, and it's really cool, and you and Sam are gonna love it!"

Cas smiled and allowed himself to be pulled along.

* * *

"I'm going to get Dean. He'll help." Sam said, looking away from Cas' bruising face at some undefined point over his shoulder.

Cas grabbed his wrist as he stood up. "Please don't. I'd rather he not know about this."

He didn't want Dean to see him like this. Dean was kind, smart, and interesting. He seemed to have a different girl on his arm every weekend, managed to be at the top of his class, and still made time to hang out with him and Sam. Granted, it seemed as if Dean only spent time with Cas because of his association with Sam, but he wanted to keep that time if it were at all possible.

If Dean found out about this, then he was likely to ask why, and Cas was a horrible liar. He highly doubted that Dean would want to spend any amount of time with him should it all come to light. (Distantly, Cas didn't think that at all. Dean was not like his relatives that he was loath to see at holidays or other family gatherings. He thought that it Dean would accept him without question and they would be able to continue their fragile friendship without any issues. But Castiel had been wrong before, and he wasn't willing to risk it.)

Sam shook his head "Your nose is still bleeding. He should be here by now anyway, and he's good with this kind of thing." With that, he took off towards the nearest exit and Castiel let his shoulders slump. He wanted to run away. He wanted to chase his bullies and continue to hit them until they never bothered him again. He wanted to crawl into his bed and hide like a child.

He probably still had time to sneak away. He could slip out the back door and take the long way home. Dean might be concerned and Sam would give him that pinched look tomorrow, but that would be fine. It would buy him some time. Just as he pressed the sleeve of his shirt to his nose and grabbed his bag, he heard heavy footsteps. Again, he wanted to run away.

"Hello, Dean."

He didn't want to look up. He didn't want to meet Dean's eyes, because if he did, he'd be letting Dean see the bruises. And if he did that, he'd never let Cas just run away and hide. But apparently what he wanted was out of the question today.

Dean grabbed Cas’ face and angled it towards the light, and Cas forced himself to focus on the throbbing pain in his hands instead of the anger filling Dean's face.

"Who did this?"

"That doesn't matter." Which was true, he thought. The who in these situations is always irrelevant. It's more important to focus on the final outcome and the motivation behind one's actions.

"The hell it doesn't. C'mon."

Dean pulled him to the nearest bathroom, wet a paper towel and started to clean off his injuries. When he reached his knuckles, Cas hurried to explain that most of the blood was not his own.

Dean smiled and shook his head. "Didn't think it was, Cas."

The ride home was tense and as soon as he was able, he muttered a quick thanks and darted towards him home, where he barricaded himself in his room and buried his face into his pillow.

For once, he was grateful that Dean was too old to spend time with him for no reason. He just wished that Dean was cruel to him like some of the others. he wished that Sam had a different brother. (Well, that wasn't true. They were close, and he couldn't imagine one without the other. Perhaps it was more accurate to suggest  he wished that Sam was not his best friend.) He wished he could hate Dean.

He wished that he had been able to defend himself against what his bullies had said without lying. He wished that they had been wrong. He wished that he could talk about girls the same way Sam did. He wished he was able to view any of the girls he knew with anything other than detached appreciation. He wished that he was normal for once, not the weird broken kid that everyone said he was.

* * *

Dean probably doesn't even have the right to be upset but he fucking was anyway. Okay sure, he hadn't made nearly as much of an effort to spend time with Cas in the past few years as he did when they were kids, but he could totally justify it. And, yeah, maybe he should have been expecting this since Sam had started complaining that Cas had been distant. But he hadn't. And it had still managed to fucking _hurt_.

Yeah, when you're thirteen you're bound to be moody and you're probably going to take it out on other people, whatever. It was dumb for Dean to think that Cas wouldn't be like everyone else. Shit, when Dean was thirteen, he'd once told Sam he hated him and laughed when he saw Cas trip and scrape up his knee. Sure, he apologized to Sammy within the hour and he'd helped Cas fix himself up, but it'd still happened.

Cas, though? He wasn't apologizing. It had been months, and he'd brushed off almost every one of Sam's attempts at handing out. And if Dean did so much as end up in the same room as him He'd take off and they wouldn't hear from him again for weeks.

If it was just Dean that he'd been brushing off, that would still hurt like hell, but he'd deal. But the fact that he was ignoring Sam too? That just pissed him off. (It worried him too, but like hell he was going to admit that to anyone, even himself.)

It's not like Cas didn't have other friends or anything, it just. Cas was special okay? And he'd been a part of Dean's life for as long as he could remember. And he was just was too good to get stuck with a friend like Dean.

He was smart, funny, tough, genuine and kind. he was the kind of guy that would beat up anyone for picking on someone, and then go help his sister with her homework. And, yeah, maybe Dean still saw him as a six year old running up and down the street watching birds, but he was still a fucking badass.

And, yeah, he could be a little awkward but it's not like that's a bad thing. He just had to do this own thing before he was comfortable sometimes. There's no problem with that.

Cas was just different from a lot of people, and that made him awesome.

Truth be told, he could probably stand a few more people telling him that. Dean would, but he couldn't if Cas ran out of the room every time he saw Dean's face.

Summer was winding down, and Dean was taking off for school in two weeks, which, if he were to be honest with himself (something he had been avoiding more and more recently), was part of the reason his stomach had been tying itself into knots and his hands were shaking more and more.

His room was seemingly stuffed full of half packed boxes, and he was pretty sure his phone was tossed into one, because he'd ripped apart every inch of the house and couldn't find it. Which was a shame, because without it, he'd be stuck home with his parents tonight and not out with his friends like he'd wanted.

Giving up his hunt for the moment, he flopped onto his desk chair, staring out the window. The kids across the street were kicking around a soccer ball, which was at least interesting enough to consume his attention for a few minutes.

* * *

Cas was sitting on his front porch, face buried in a book when Dean finally worked up the nerve to approach him.

"Here," he’d practically growled as he shoved the box between Cas' face and the book. "You don't want to talk to me, I get it. And your birthday was five months ago, but you've been avoiding me since before Christmas, so I couldn't give this to you." He curled his hands into fists, trying to calm himself down.

"You probably don't even want it. But you know what, Cas? Fuck you." Cas flinched sending a wave of guilt crashing through Dean, but it wasn't anywhere near enough to wash away his rage. "I don't know what the hell I did to you, or why the hell you've ditched Sam, but I had to ask your sister what you've been up to to figure out what to get you. And I don't know if you've noticed, Cas, but that kid hates my fucking guts."

Cas looked up at him, eyes wide and panicked. He opened his mouth, but quickly snapped it shut and just stared down at his knees.

Dean gulped down a breath like a man drowning at sea. he felt like his throat had been scrubbed raw. _Probably because I've been yelling_ , his mind belatedly supplied. Another deep breath in and out, and he finally felt calm enough to really look at Cas.

He shoulders here hitched up to his ears, hands clutching to his gift. He looked like a kid waiting to open a box of coal on Christmas morning. After Dean's little tirade, he wouldn't be surprised if Cas genuinely thought that was what he had be given.

Just like that, Dean's anger melted away, leaving exhaustion in its wake. “Hannah said you'd joined that photography club. It's old, and it's not that great but it's something. If you really hate it, you can sell it. Or toss it out of a moving car. Whatever."

With a sigh, Dean turned around to head home and finish packing. "Bye, Cas. I'm sorry for whatever I did," He called back over his shoulder.

He thought he'd heard Cas' quiet voice saying his name as he walked away, but it was probably his imagination, so he didn't bother to turn around and check.

* * *

Castiel twisted the neck strap of his new camera around his fingers. If anyone asked he wouldn't say that he was hiding, because he absolutely wasn't; not at all. He was simply sitting in a tree, waiting for a bird to return to its nest so he could photograph it. That's all.

There was no chance that he was both hiding from and observing Dean Winchester. That would have been both dumb and creepy. Which is why if anyone had asked, he hadn't been doing just that.

He watched as the Winchesters across the street, helping Dean move boxes for his belongings to his car. he was leaving for school, and he was leaving everything behind. _Off to bigger and better things_ , Castiel thought bitterly to himself.

Now Castiel would finally be rid of him. he should have been glad, but instead he felt as if his chest was being held in a vice.

Sure, Dean would come back for holidays and the like, but Castiel knew it was likely that his family would monopolize on that time. Not that he would begrudge them for it, of course. But his only excuse to visit their home anymore was to ask Mary for advice on helping to care for Hannah, a thing he needed to do less and less lately.

Sam helped Dean load another box into the trunk before he slammed it shut. Their conversations, or what he could hear of them, sounded happy and normal. Mary stood on the front porch, smiling at the scene. He watched as John pulled Dean close for a hug. It seemed too private for him to see, so he turned away.

Despite how he'd avoided him for the past year, Castiel wanted to go over and say goodbye. He wanted to thank him for his new camera, a gift that left him feeling both overwhelming joy and waves of guilt. He wanted to hug him again. He wanted to maybe take a photograph of Dean so he had something that made him smile even though he was sad. However, he didn't have the right, and felt out of place even thinking about asking.

It was fine, though. Castiel was always fine.

A fat robin landed in the nest, and he focused the camera on it. The shutter quietly clicked with each shot. Just as he adjusted himself for a different angle, a car roared to life and the bird took off.

He sighed and stared at the empty nest until the steady buzz of the cicadas became a numbing soundtrack to the dying sunset behind him.

Castiel forced himself to seek refuge inside. As soon and he walked through the door the was greeted by Hannah holding a plastic tiara.

"There you are!" Despite his foul mood, Cas let himself offer he a small smile.

"Here I am."

She beamed up at him, shoving the tiara into his hands. "C'mon! You've been sad, and that's dumb, so we're having a tea party." Without waiting for a reply, she took hold of his hands and pulled him towards the kitchen.

"Later we're gonna play cops 'n robbers. This time I get to play the robber." Taking his seat amongst a table of dolls and stuffed animals, Cas dutifully put on his tiara. "It's getting dark, Hannah. Maybe that should wait until tomorrow."

With a pout that only a ten-year-old could muster, Hannah grudgingly nodded. "Fine. But we're still going to play until you're happy."

"What if that takes a while?"

"I'm pretty little. I've got time."

* * *

Finals were finally done and over with, but the lingering weight of stress and anxiety was still pressing on Castiel’s shoulders. He hadn’t slept in three days, he was hardly able to eat, and he was ready to start a fight if it meant he could get rid of the crawling sensation underneath his skin. He wished he could blame it on finals alone - maybe then he wouldn’t feel so ridiculous. Instead, he’d felt this way all year.

He’d hardly been able to focus with the stress, to say his sleep schedule was “erratic” would have been generous at best, and he had been aggravated to the point of starting shouting matches over the most trivial things. It didn't matter who it was, either. It could have been anyone from his roommate (who, in his defense, could have worn out the patience of a saint) to Hannah (when he'd actually bothered to call her, or answer her calls. He hadn't cared much for talking to anyone since he'd started classes). He'd been drained and listless, and most of all, he didn't want to go back to school again.

The thought of going back was enough to make him cry in frustration and want to tear his hair out. It was a feeling only made worse when he got home for the summer and talked to Hannah about it.

He'd been reassuring himself with the mantra his mother had repeated when Gabriel had refused to go to school: "College isn't for everyone." To which Hannah's response had been, "But, Cas, she only said that because he's a moron, and she wanted to make everyone feel better about it."

He wasn't stupid, was he? He'd always prided himself on his intelligence. Sure, he had never gotten the highest grades, but he always did well in the subjects that interested him. College simply hadn't clicked with him, but that didn't make him unintelligent. _Perhaps Hannah is right_ , he eventually admitted to himself, _perhaps I'm a moron_.

As it turned out, self loathing did not aid his insomnia and anxiety.

Hannah has taken to giving him concerned looks and refusing to ask about it, while his parents asked him, repeatedly, if there was something wrong. A dozen times he nearly broke and told them that, yes, there was, but he refused to buckle under his own incompetence.

More often than not, he spent his days avoiding everyone and reading. He wished he could bring himself to just drive around with his camera, but every time he’d thought about it, he’d hear echos of every negative thing his professors had told him. Every critique, every disparaging remark, every comparison to a classmate’s superior work ran on an endless loop. So he left his camera to collect dust and he read instead.

He’d supposed that it had only been a matter of time before someone outside of his family noticed his state, but when it had happened, he’d wished it could have been anyone else.

Castiel woke up to a loud smack on the tree trunk below him, nearly startling him out of his precarious spot on his branch.

“Don’t get me wrong, Cas. I like a nap as much as the next guy, but a tree’s probably not the best spot, yeah?”

Resisting the urge to hit his head against the bark behind him, he rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Dean?” He started scanning the ground beneath him him for his book, pointedly ignoring the gaze he could feel boring into him.

“What’s up with you, man? And don’t say ‘nothing’, cause you look like shit.”

That time, Castiel did roll his eyes. “Thank you, Dean. Your tactful consideration truly knows no bounds.”

“Get down here so we can actually talk, man. I’m not having this conversation where my only view is of your ass.”

“I’ve been told I have a pleasent ass; it would likely be a nicer conversation.” He muttered as he grudgingly climbed down.

He didn’t particularly want to talk to Dean, especially not as miserable and tired as he felt. But he also didn't want to look like a jackass by refusing. He couldn’t force himself to meet Dean’s concerned gaze, instead continuing to search for his book on the ground.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, tilting his head to catch Castiel’s eyes, and-unfortunately, in his opinion-succeeding.

“I’m fine,” Cas said, willing himself to believe his own bullshit.

Dean searched his face, raising an eyebrow and clenching his jaw. “Seriously, Cas, what’s going on?”

After month of despair over everything, he wanted to collapse. He wanted to  break down and tell someone. When he opened his mouth to tell Dean, though, he remembered the failure of his not-quite-a-conversation with Hannah, and he clammed up again.

What if Dean thought he was stupid too? Castiel may have withdrawn from their friendship, but that didn’t mean he no longer cared what he thought of him. The idea of pointing out to Dean exactly how flawed and unimportant he was felt horrifying.

Then again, maybe it would help. Drive another wedge between them. Maybe it would make Dean see how pointless a friendship with him would be. Maybe it would help Castiel finally get over this pointless crush.

He ground his teeth together for a moment before he gave up.

“I hate college. I want to drop out, Dean,” he shook his head. “Everything about school’s making me miserable. It makes me hate everything that I used to find joy in and I just...”

Dean was just looking at him. Not judging, just listening. Cas sighed and slumped against the tree, staring at his feet.

“I can’t even look at a camera anymore without wanting to get mind numbingly drunk. I’m not… I’m not doing well. I don’t like the person that I’m turning into, and I just.” He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. If I keep going, I keep being miserable, but if I drop out, I’ll just waste my life, right?”

“What? No, Cas, that’s not…” Dean gestured listlessly around him. “College is hard. And sure, sometimes you need it. But you’re studying photography, right? I don’t know a whole lot about it, but I do know that you’re good.”

“You’ve never even seen any of my stuff, Dean. So no offence, but it’s probably smarter for me to trust my professors over you.” The setting sun shifted and started glaring into his eyes. “That being the case, it’s far more likely that I suck and that it’s nothing short of a minor miracle that I got into the program to begin with.”

“Then drop out. Go it on your own.”

“I can’t do that, it’d be a waste.”

“If going is making you miserable, then it sounds like going is more of a waste.” Dean handed Cas his book and smiled at him. “Hey, just don’t give up, okay? If the pictures Hannah texts me are actually your work, then you’ve got nothing but potential.”

* * *

Air bubbles obscured his view for a moment, and Castiel held his breath. He’d thought he’d have to go out much further to find any Portuguese man o’ war, but there were swarms of them just off the shore. He raised his camera and silently prayed that the waves above him would give him good lighting. If this worked out, he would get the shot he needed and, subsequently, the paycheck that he so desperately wanted.

Warm water swirled around him as he did his best to stay in place. It was a nice day, and he almost wanted to lament that he had to spend so much of it underwater, but he loved what he did. The almost weightlessness of being in the water and seeing the beauty of the life and color that thrived below the surface of the ocean made was something he’d never even thought of when he was still in school. It made it worth the uncertainty of living paycheck to paycheck and constantly being away from home.

Taking a few more pictures, he swam back up towards the boat above him.

“You get what you wanted?” the boatman asked as he helped Cas take off his scuba gear.

“Yes, I think so.”

* * *

He steps into his apartment, already regretting it once he hears his phone ringing. If he’d just stayed out on the boat a little longer, he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone else yet. He could just enjoy the ocean spray and the warm sun for a while longer.

Looking through the living room, he grabs his phone.”

“Hello?”

“Castiel?” A tearful voice asks, stopping him in his tracks.

“Mary? What’s wrong, are you alright?”

A sniffle. “I’m fine. John passed away yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“The funeral’s on Thursday, it would mean a lot to the boys and I if you could make it.”

“Of course I will. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Cas.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Just being here will be enough.”

* * *

The drive took him two days, but he made it. Hannah made some sort of casserole for him to take over to the Winchester’s the next day. He almost didn’t want to go, but ultimately he wanted to be there for the family that had helped raise him.

“Did Hannah make that?” Sam asked as he opened the door for him. “It’s good to see you, Cas.”

“You as well.” He followed him into the kitchen, grimacing at the casseroles that were already cluttering  the countertops. “Where should I put this?”

“Good question. Everyone wants to help Mom, and it seems like the only way that anyone knows how is to cook.” He shrugged, stacking a few dishes on top of each other to make room. “It’s why Dean told Hannah not to send anything over.”

The kitchen that had always seemed so inviting and warm as a child now seemed tense and heavy. “Since when has she ever listened to anything he said? If you’d said something, there’d be more of a chance that Mary might ever cook again.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

He sat in the same chair he’d sat in when he stayed over for dinner when they were younger.

“At the risk of sounding like every person you’ve talked to for three days, how are you all holding up?”

“Best we can. You know, considering.”

“I’m sorry about you dad.”

“Yeah, so are we.”

* * *

The funeral was over, but Castiel didn’t stick around for the reception. It didn’t seem like he had a right, all things considered. Even though Mary hugged him tightly and kept saying how glad she was he could make it, Dean’s tight smile and the awkwardness with Sam the other day lingered. Instead he retreated to his childhood home, finally giving himself the time to look through the pictures he’d taken before everything happened.

He selected a few to start importing to photoshop and see what he could work with when a knock on his doorframe startled him out of his work.

“Figured I’d try to catch you here and talk for a while before you take off again.” Dean smiled at him, looking sad in his shirt and tie. “Why didn’t you stick around, Cas?”

He looked down at his laptop. He was suddenly aware of how dark his room was. He hadn’t even bothered to open the curtains since he’d gotten back. The air was heavy with years of stillness, he really should have opened a window at some point.

“I didn’t think I would be missed.”

“Of course you were.” Dean rolled his eyes, leaning against the door frame. “C’mon, man, none of us have even seen you since you dropped out of school. We want to know what’s up with you. I want to know what you’ve been up to. What you’re doing, you know? Now that Hannah’s off at school, we’ve kinda lost our eyes and ears into your life.” He bit his lip as he looked at the carpet. “And to be frank, we could all use the distraction. Think about your life instead of ours for a while.”

“I live in Texas. Right now, anyway. I’m an underwater photographer. When I can find someone to buy my work, that is. Otherwise I work for a friend of mine, waiting tables.”

“Underwater photographer, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Good thing you know how to swim.”

Castiel smiled. “Very.”

“How’re you liking Texas?”

“Honestly?”

“If you’d rather lie, I can’t stop you. None of us could ever stop you from doing anything, Cas.”

“Well, honestly, it’s awful. It’s humid, it’s hot, and if I ever see another pickup truck I think I’m going to scream. There’s no reason for so many people to own trucks, Dean.”

Across the room, Dean lets out a quiet laugh.

“So, no place like home, huh?”

“Not really. But home doesn’t have an ocean.”

“Fair enough.” He paused, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Mind if I have a seat?”

“Feel free.” He closed his laptop, placing it on the pillow beside him. “So, what about you? What do you do?”

“I, uh, I finished up med school last year. Just started my residency a few months ago.”

Cas smiled to himself, looking down at his lap.

“You’ll be a fantastic doctor, Dean.”

“Aww, Cas, you don’t have to get all sappy on me.”

“Is it sappy to tell the truth, now? I wasn’t aware.”

Dean let out a loud chuckle, easing a small weight ease from Cas’ shoulders.

“Good to know some things haven’t changed.” He smiled at him, and Cas briefly felt the same butterflies that had dominated his adolescence.

“Perhaps not.”

There was a beat of silence, heavy enough that Castiel felt he could drown in it.

“I don’t want to lost touch with you again, man. It was like, one day I had my best friend, and the next you wanted nothing to do with me. Like you’d just decided not to care.”

“I know, and that wa by my own design. I had feelings for you and I didn’t know how to cope with them so I just… I just didn’t.”

He paused.

“You had feelings for me, huh?”

“I figured that much was obvious.”

Dean slipped his hand into Cas’ and this his own surprise, he found he didn’t want to pull away.

“No feelings now, though?”

Cas looked at Dean, really looked at him. Somehow, the beautiful bot that Castiel had forced himself away from was still there, even after all these years. He was older, sure, and more tired than he remembered, but no less of a handsome person for it. It seemed that even time could never really take that away from Dean Winchester.

“I don’t know, we haven’t spoken in years.”

“We could, you know.”

They smiled at each other.

“That’s true.”

* * *

His back was killing him, but he was determined to get the last of his things loaded into the truck by lunch. He suspects that the work would be easier if not for the sun beating down on him incessantly. Then again, he really has no one to blame but himself. It _was_ his idea to move in the middle of summer, after all.

“Need some help?” Called a voice from behind him.

The box in his hands slipped as he adjusted his grip.

“Shut up, Dean.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

“I can do this on my own.”

Sweeping in to scoop up the box that was sitting next to the truck, Dean just grinned. “Never said you couldn’t. Just thought I’d lend a hand.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with how smug you’ve been all day, does it?”

“C’mon, Cas, it’s like you hardly know me.”

They ended up getting everything loaded up just after noon. They had a long drive ahead of them, and not a lot of time to waste if they wanted to get everything unpacked before the weekend was over.

Stopping at a diner for dinner, Cas couldn’t stop smiling.

“We’re going to be living together.”

“Yep,” Dean said, unashamedly chewing with his mouth open, not a care in the world.

“We bought a house.”

“Yeah, Cas. We sure did.”

They smiled at each other, and Cas couldn’t help but lean across the table and steal a quick kiss.

“We should go to the beach. After we get the important stuff done.”

“Sounds good to me.”

* * *

Even though it had been happening for years, Cas never got used to seeing his daughter getting hurt. “You're okay, Shiloh. I've just gotta put a band aid on it and you'll be fine.” He held onto her arm firmly, wiping a damp cloth over her bleeding elbow. The tears running down her face, like they always had, broke his heart a little bit. He used his hand to wipe her face clean.

“But it hurts really bad, Daddy! What if I can never use it again?”

“I know it hurts, sweetheart.” Cas paused, looking over his shoulder at the car pulling into the driveway behind him. He had never loved Dean’s timing more than he had at that moment. Despite his best efforts, his brilliant little girl was never going to believe she was okay until a doctor told her so.. “We’ll have Papa take a look, okay? But I’m sure that this little scrape isn’t going to keep you down.”

A bag landed next to him with a small thud.“Hey, Cas.” He crouched down next to him, both of them pretending to ignore the popping of his knees as he did so. “What happened here?”

“I was trying to climb the tree, and I fell.” She rubbed her nose against her shirt sleeve. “It’s broken.”

“Now let me be the judge of that, huh?” With a smile, he maneuvered her arm around so he could look at it. “Looks like it’s scratched up pretty good, but not broken. Are you okay with the boring old band aids? It’ll heal faster.” Sniffing, she nodded. “Okay. Want me to kiss it better?”

She shook her head.

“Daddy’s kisses are better.”

Dean laughed, and Castiel smiled as he kissed her arm.

“Thank you, Daddy!” She lurched off the porch steps before running back into the yard without so much as a glance back.

Dean picked up his bag and pulled Cas into a kiss.

“How was work?”

“Long. What was she doing in the tree? I thought she was scared of heights.”

“Damn if I know. If I ever figure out what’s going on in her head, you’ll be the first to know.”

He smiled, warm and genuine, as he wrapped his arm around Cas’ waist.

“You know, maybe we should adopt a dog.”

“Instead of another kid?”

“No, not at all. Maybe just in addition to? Shiloh’s got a birthday coming up, you know.”

“How could I forget? What about a cat?”

“And another baby?”

“Of course.”

“Deal.”


End file.
